Souls in Flight
by Eleutheria Wolf
Summary: Life in the valley was not just good. It was free.


1.1 FLIGHT

It was dark as his wings when he approached her, but the scent of the dawn lingered in the night like the perfume of a goddess, promising good things to come. The air was heady with the myriad smells of pine, snow, mountain, spring, and something neither hawk nor human, but a bittersweet medley of both. It was in the new home that he approached her, alighting on the steady branch to none but the audience of her wary eyes. The dark male lowered his wings, still ruffled from flight, and his eyes in deference to the tan female's greater strength and superiority. It was as it had always been, and would always be. Thus was the ritual of life itself.

But something would change tonight. A fire had been lit, burning in the both of them for many days, and he had no patience for ritual any longer than he must. He raised himself from his hunched position and confronted the female with night's own eyes, seeking and finding the fever brightness in her dark stare, twin and mirror to his own. The male held the locked gaze for a moment or two, seeing the passion and impotent fury in her every breath, then uttered a soft chuckle and leaped away into the night air, teasing her into the sky. He heard the sweep of her wings behind him, following, and again made the teasing noise, mostly to himself. The female would never resist such a challenge. It wasn't in her nature.

Up and up he led her, into the light-littered sky, stirring the stars with every beat of their wings, always in unison, always together. Just like always. He could feel her, like a force of nature, a gust of desert air beneath his wings, as he paused in the crisp, cool air of upper heaven and allowed her to be at his level. She was questioning, angry, but the male could see the knowledge in her eyes. She knew what they would do tonight, and he traced the shape of her wings in the pre-dawn light. A wind smelling of the day swept across them, and an agreement passed along it. They would release the fires in their souls with the dawn. Tonight.

As one, they dove sideways, plummeting and curving around one another. Skimming the tree-tops, they twisted knots in the air, drawing pictures in the night with the tips of their wings. Around, over, above; all were alike in the dance. Time and space held no meaning for those who danced with sky. All that they knew was the ticking of the metronome, kept in each others' hearts, minds, and souls. They were two birds in flight, a miracle that tossed and tumbled in the golden-pink light of the rising sun, dawn souls dancing.

Tonight, they _lived_.

Below the dance, the big pale male woke, alarmed and ready to shrill a warning, to be silenced by a brush of the little one's wing. Her scent and guiding touch told him the story of the dance his eyes could not see, and together they watched, blind male and clear-seeing child, as dawn shed its light around the two who wove in the air. Slowly, the others around them woke as well, dark female and little pale male, each brought into the light by a glance or touch, all watching with silent, knowing eyes. They watched, as the dance descended from sight into the dawn-shadowed valley ringed by the mountains of life. They watched, an ancient instinct holding them still as the twin, regal cries rang out into the valley, harmonizing until it sounded as though the valley was full of bells heralding the day. They watched, as the sun rose to blanket them in light. Today they would stay close at home, building a life in a few enfolding trees and crags of stone. Energy pulsed in their veins, and a deep exhaustion, as they themselves had danced. One by one, they lay back down to sleep, all but one.

The little one crooned her nestling's song, watching with old eyes as the wind stirred the valley and touched over the feathers of her mother flock. Today life was made, here in the valley. Today, the little one could rest, drifting on the waves of dawn.

All was well.

HOME

The pale male basked in the sun, cat-like, soaking up the feeling of midsummer sun on his wings. The cool stone added a pleasant contrast to the sun's heat, and were he as feline as he appeared at the time, he would have been purring. Physical pleasure induced a lazy sense of happiness in the pale hawk male. The pale male had not felt so utterly relaxed in a long time, even since his home flock had chosen to settle in the valley-in-mountains-home that had been so good to all of them. It was nice, to not-quite-sleep in the sun, without anything to do or places to be or needs so immediately pressing. But it was missing something.

The sounds of wings sweeping in the sun-filled air alerted him to the nature of that lack a spare moment before it was fulfilled by the cool pressure of another's body against his own. Pleasure glowed through him as he recognized the feel and scent of the dark female he had called flock-mate and companion for many years. The rasp of her wings touching over his own before withdrawing, the feeling of her breath on his neck as she began to gently preen though his nape, all were as familiar as breathing to the pale male. Many a time, late in the night, had the pale male and the dark female done this thing together, preen and held in the darkness. Though they had not yet followed the lead of the tan female and dark male in their dance of weeks prior, the pale male knew it would not be long before other dances would grace the sky. Already he could feel the pleasant fire murmuring in his belly, urging him on. But it was not yet truly urgent, and for now, it was much more pleasant to lie in the sun and feel the breezes.

But not for long.

FREE

The dusk was growing along the edge of the mountains as the little one sat and crooned in the very top of the highest tree. Just below her, the pale fledgling watched the world with wary eyes, eager to protect his sister. But even his solemn guarding did not prevent him from joining in the glow of happiness that prompted his feathered sister's song. It was a good time, a free time, their wings free of chains and their hearts free of fear. The flock had made a home here, cast off the restricting shackles of the other life, and thus, life blossomed with the valley and within them. It was a dusk of much rejoicing.

Long had the fear of chains kept them pale fledgling back. Long had the little one startled at the shadow, and kept back from the light. Long had they been captives to the fear and the feeling of being captives. But no more.

Out here, they were free.


End file.
